


Ichi

by SpookySusie



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Magic, Mononoke - Freeform, Murder, Oni, Onmyouji - Freeform, Prison, Youkai, Yôkai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookySusie/pseuds/SpookySusie
Summary: An oni who has no memory of the world outside her prison meets a mysterious woman--and uncovers dark secrets.[Join my Discord server!]





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had a pretty good time writing this character up for a commission! It's always a joy to write about oni.  
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> [Further Reading/Commissiony Stuff](spookysu.carrd.co)  
> [Join My Discord Server](https://discord.gg/U5RwYNm)

It all started with a light.

Ichi assumed light was how things ended, from the stories she heard from within her dark jail cell.

“When you’re dying,” an elder oni had said, “you’ll see the light of life flash before your eyes. Then you’ll begin your descent to rejoin your people.”

The descent. The journey to Jigoku, where the oldest of their shared kind dwelled. An endless paradise for oni, where they could let out their anger on the wrongdoers and sinners of the world and live free and happy.

Ichi struggled against her chains.

_ Free _ .

It was something that felt so out of reach--not that she remembered a life outside of this little cave-cell. She was nothing, as far as she was concerned. Like the other oni down here, she was simply given a number-- _ ichi _ , for her cell.

At the end of the day, she was a plaything for onmyouji--the court diviners that kept her and the others captive--and like her own name, her days surviving were numbered, too.

Ichi spat at the ground, ready to embrace her death. Many of the oni captured down here had died long ago, their corpses disintegrating into little more than bones. And if she saw the light, that meant that she was next.

And she would spit in Death’s face.

She expected death to be painful, like some sort of forced nap, which was what being captured by the onmyouji felt like. It was the only tangible memory she had, pre-prison. The rest were all foggy, of smiling faces and drums she could sense but could not describe.

As the light became brighter and Ichi shielded her eyes in vain, she had only one wish: that she could’ve remembered her home before her untimely death, before the onmyouji got bored of her and the pleasure she provided.

But as these thoughts escaped her mind, the light stopped growing, and the figure of a woman came through the gap. Ichi didn’t think Death would’ve been a woman, but she decided it was best not to argue. Wherever this woman was taking her must’ve been better than where she was.

The woman climbed down the winding path to the cluster of cells, to the five living oni who remained. With a few gestures of her hands beneath billowing sleeves, she said, “Run. Run now.”

Ichi wasn’t sure if she was still  _ capable _ of running. She was so used to laying down, bending over, or sitting, whatever was demanded of her or whatever she was physically capable of inside the cell. 

“Run?” she managed, her mouth surprisingly dry. Or not surprisingly, with how the onmyouji provided her with little water. 

“Yes. Get out of here before they find out what I’ve done.”

Ichi scrunched her brows and tried to analyze the woman’s face, but to no avail. She was tiny, far smaller than the behemoth Ichi was, but even with her height advantage, she couldn’t make sense of any facial features. She wore a cloak over her kimono, something with a hood that hid her face in shadows.

“What...have you done? Aren’t you Death? Whatever you’re doing is what you’re supposed to do, yeah?”

The faceless woman laughed. “Really? You think I’m Death?”

“Well, yeah.” Ichi suddenly felt her face burn in self-consciousness. “Why else would I see a bright light and someone in a cloak?”

Most human women Ichi had seen have giggled behind their sleeves, for modesty was a virtue among them. But this cloaked figure absolutely  _ roared _ with laughter, her hands on her knees as she wheezed.

“What?!” Not only was Ichi’s entire culmination of her being devoured in embarrassment, but now, it had an extra bite of confusion gnawing at her flesh, the same way her shackles burned at her raw wrists.

The woman finally pulled herself together, exhaled, and entered the cell. With more waves of her hands, the chains broke free. The shackles remained on her wrist, but without the strain of the wall holding her captive, they were nowhere near as uncomfortable.

Ichi massaged her wrists, now able to slide a few fingers beneath the magical metal. “Thanks, but...why?”

The woman tilted her cloaked head. Before she could speak, the cacophony of escaping oni drowned out any words escaping her mind.

“We should...get out of here,” the woman managed over the noise of the prison collapsing onto itself. “Come with me.”

Without warning, the tiny woman grabbed onto Ichi’s arm and dragged her to the light.

Ichi reeled at the pure  _ grip strength _ on the tiny woman. Her nails grazed her arm, claws almost as threatening as her own.

“What...are you?” Ichi managed as they escaped the wreckage. 

The woman chuckled lightly, tightening her grip as they dodged to a corner. “Get down,” she muttered.

“We were just down,” Ichi replied, her voice still at full volume.

The woman clasped her hand over her mouth and forced the oni to sit behind a screen. The sounds of armor and the singing of blades filled the air.

Guards.

“Oh, that,” Ichi tried to say, but ended up just biting the woman, earning a small slap on the ear.

“Shut up and stay still.”

Ichi did just that, not because she was terribly afraid of a few simple guards--they were easy enough to beat up because they didn’t have  _ magic _ \--but because she felt indebted to the woman she couldn’t even see.

As they sat together, Ichi heard the sounds of oni laughter, the crashing of priceless ceramics, the snapping apart of blades that almost stirred memories of  _ before _ and made her tighten her grip on her savior’s arm. The oni were defending themselves and, as predicted, were absolutely tearing apart the guards.

The woman leaned toward Ichi’s ear, which still stung. “Once they’re dead, we’ll keep moving through the palace and escape to the woods.”

Ichi tried to respond, but the woman clamped her jaw shut, preventing her teeth from impaling her hand and from any words escaping her lips. Ichi desperately wanted to help, not sit on the sidelines like some helpless court lady, but she had to give the woman some respect for what she had done for her. 

A life outside of the prison…

There were so many possibilities.

She could start her own commune of misfits in the woods, people living purely for their pleasure without human rules or laws.

She could finally  _ feast _ and  _ drink _ as much as she liked.

She could get in all the bar fights she wanted--always friendly sparring, of course, for she never truly meant any  _ harm _ . Fighting was reserved for the friends and rivals you made, of course, not inflicting pain on people for no reason.

Something in particular she was focused on was getting her revenge. She could spend her days letting her anger out on the courts through pranks, stealing their clothes, goods, and interrupting their Very Important Meetings, as examples, but she’d have to take some more time to plan this out--and figure out if this woman was going to keep an eye on her. She didn’t particularly want to be babysat.

“Here they come,” the woman murmured, breaking Ichi’s train of thought.

_ They? _

As the singing of swords ceased--for there were no arms remaining to communicate with blades--a new pattern of footsteps filled the hallway, far lighter than the guards.

_ Oh. Them. _

They were the onmyouji, the very court magicians who kept Ichi and her brethren captive. And they were ready to put the oni down for what they had done to the guards.

Ichi began to rise. Despite her usual philosophy of fighting for camaraderie, she was out for blood, ready to destroy these puny magical bastards for what they had done to her, to her friends, to who might have been her family. 

“Don’t. We’re going this way.”

“But--” Now that Ichi’s mouth was free from the woman’s grasp, she could speak. And dammit, she would.

“No. You’re not strong enough to fight them, and neither are they.”

As if to prove her point, the pained screams of oni rang through the halls. Ichi, being captive as long as she had been, recognized the sounds of chains, the sharpness that cut through the air harsher than any steel.

Binding spells to keep the oni at bay.

And pain to control them.

“Come on, dumbass,” the woman hissed to her, and Ichi was dragged along, away from her people and down unfamiliar halls.

Ichi had never been in the palace itself, and with all the twists and turns they made around the central garden, Ichi wasn’t sure how anyone lived there in the first place. How did they find their ways around? It was hardly intuitive, unlike…

No. Ichi didn’t really remember what it was like before the days in her tiny cell. All she knew was  _ something _ about this palace felt very off. It was too complex, too ornate to be even somewhat reasonable.

Yet this woman knew her way around. 

“Do you live here?” Ichi asked finally.

The woman laughed. “Of course not. I’m a sort of hermit, out in the woods.”

“Then how did you--”

“I’ve been storing up my magical energy to rescue you for...the better part of the century. Court-trained onmyouji have the power of the kami on their sides, so it's hard for a lowly hermit for me to match them, let alone surpass them.” 

Suddenly, the woman stopped walking.

Another white-robed onmyouji, hat and all, blocked her path. Ichi was a rather tall oni, but this man felt bigger somehow. That was when she realized it was the power that surrounded him that gave that impression, not his actual height.

“Move,” the woman said.

“I don’t take orders from a woman.” The onmyouji raised two fingers, ready to conjure.

“I said, move.”

With a flick or her wrists, the onmyouji was stunned, bound together by something Ichi couldn’t see. Another flick, and the onmyouji’s frozen form crashed through the gates to the garden. His blood stained the white rocks as he landed, squishy bits that made Ichi’s stomach churn oozing out of his cracked skull.

“How did you--”

“Lots of practice. Come on.”

Ichi did indeed “come on,” but she still had questions. “How are you able to just...kill like that?”

“One onmyouji is easy enough. They’re tougher in groups. We’ll have to train you to be able to defeat them, to detect the power they exude instead of just cowering in fear like you do.”

“But they--”

“I know. They’re naturally inclined to dominate you, with their heavenly magics. But nothing is impossible, not in the spirit world.” 

They had arrived at what looked like a side door then, and the woman slid it open. “Through here. You first.”

And for the first time in the life that Ichi could remember, she stepped outside.

And it was cold, far colder than she imagined. Snow was falling softly--an icy powder Ichi hadn’t noticed in the garden in the center of the palace. She hugged her arms together as the woman slid the door closed behind her.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Get out of here!” the woman commanded.

Ichi had a flicker of a thought that perhaps this woman didn’t have her best interest in mind and was instead commanding her, a lowly oni, to do her bidding, but for the first time, beneath that hood of hers, the woman’s eyes were visible.

Three of them.

Two brown-black, and the one in the center red.

“You’re...not human?” Ichi asked.

The woman gave her a shove, and Ichi got the message and continued out of the palace grounds, scaling the surrounding fence and helping the tiny magician out. 

The woman hadn’t answered yet. “We’ll need to go around the capitol. Your kind is warded out. There’s a shortcut this way.” Taking her hand, the woman made a sharp left, and they half-ran out of the vision of other equally-complex buildings as the palace. 

“How do you know so much? What even are you?”

The woman sighed. “There’s no use in not telling you, is there?”

“Omission is lying,” Ichi reminded her, voice firm.

“You’re right. I should tell you, but...I assumed you already knew, especially by now.” The snow was falling a bit harder now, but the woman pulled back her hood. Thick, sleek black hair tumbled down her shoulders, the shiny ink catching the snowflakes on their descent. “My name is Anaka. I’m a satori. After my powers came in, I isolated myself from the rest of the people...anywhere, really.”

“Powers?”

“Satori have natural telekinetic instincts. We read minds. Some of the more powerful can control them, but I’m not at that tier.”

Ichi breathed a sigh of relief. So she  _ wasn’t _ controlling her!

“But due to these gifts, we can...practice bending the world to our will using our minds. It’s how I could throw--and kill--the onmyouji you saw.”

“Why not just use your hands?”

Anaka laughed. “You oni are so simple. It’s far more complex to use the power of one’s mind. After all, no one can see what you’re about to do.” At the beginning of the woods, Anaka put her hand on Ichi’s shoulder, which was quite the reach for her. “I plan on training you to exact your revenge, so you, too, can tap into the powers of your mind.”

“Or I could just...get stronger,” Ichi argued. “Using my mind...that seems like a coward’s battle.”

“Hardly. Think of your mind as another muscle. A secret muscle. One that the onmyouji can’t touch. One that can  _ finally _ bring them to their knees.”

“But...why? Why train me for this? You don’t even know me.”

The satori studied her for a moment, the center eye moving rapidly with her analysis. “You...really don’t remember, do you?”

Ichi shook her head.

“You...we…” All three of her eyes began to tear up. “We were wed. You were...my wife, before you were taken by those disgusting bastards of the capitol. I trained to save you, to bring my love back home.”

Ichi blinked a few times, slowly registering what was being told. “We were...married?”

“Yes.”

“Then why...why did you conceal yourself?”

Anaka worried her sleeves, a few threads coming loose. “I couldn’t have the people in the palace know who I was. If you recognized me, your excitement could’ve...caused a lot of destruction. It has before.”

“If you know so much about me, then...then…what’s my name?”

“Tora. Your name was Tora.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't as they seem.  
> [[I’m running a Valentine’s Day special on shippy commissions!](https://spookysu.carrd.co/#valentinesday) [Email for a quote or more information!](mailto:spookysuika@gmail.com)]  
> [[February is Women in Horror Month, so I’m doing a horror art and writing commission sale!](https://spookysu.carrd.co/#wihmonth)]   
> [[Join my Discord server!](https://discord.gg/U5RwYNm)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Social media dump:  
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> [DeviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/spookysu)  
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> [Further Reading/Commissiony Stuff](spookysu.carrd.co)  
> [Join My Discord Server](https://discord.gg/U5RwYNm)

_ Tora _ .

So she had a name after all. Not the number  _ ichi _ . Not  _ that oni _ . Not  _ prisoner. _

_ Tora. Tiger. _

Ichi--Tora?--never considered herself to be a quiet person, even in captivity. She always had something to say, something to do, noise to make. But the revelation that this woman was her wife and that she had a name at  _ all _ made her grow completely silent. 

“You...really don’t remember anything?” Anaka asked. Her center eye twitched, as though it discovered something unpleasant within the oni woman. 

Ichi--no, Tora felt wrong; she never remembered being a Tora--shook her head. Even being here with Anaka now, on their way to wherever the satori lived, nothing felt familiar. There was a sort of pang inside her chest, as though she was  _ supposed _ to remember something, but to no avail. So instead, when Anaka finally gave up her analysis and turned around, Ichi followed her down the pine-covered path, deeper into the woods.

Ichi had to duck in order to avoid her horns getting tangled with the gnarled branches curling around them. Jealously, she looked down at the satori, who was managing to evade all the branches with her height--or lack thereof. 

Short women were so lucky, as far as Ichi was concerned. Untangling horns from branches was always a pain, especially before captivity…

Ichi clutched her head for a moment, not to dodge a tree, but because of the searing pain the almost-memory gave her. She’d have to remember to not strain herself. It was as though there was a wall of pain itself blocking her from remembering anything.

“We will get your memories back,” Anaka said, though Ichi didn’t ask aloud. She had almost forgotten that Anaka could read her mind. 

Anaka made a few sharp turns to the point that Ichi was practically crawling behind her. She wondered if the forest was all so overgrown like this, or if Anaka had been so focused on getting her back that she didn’t tend to her surrounding woods.

They had arrived to a small hut at this point, smoke rising from the central smokestack.

“Welcome home, Tora,” Anaka said.

Anaka could read minds. Anaka should’ve known Ichi wasn’t Tora, regardless of who she was in the past. But because of Anaka’s ability, Ichi didn’t feel like articulating this. 

But she would have to be careful to keep some thoughts quiet, and she wasn’t sure if she remembered how to block Anaka, or if that was something that she was ever capable of. Perhaps learning enough of this “mental strength” Anaka talked about would give her the privacy she deserved.

“You’ve never been bothered by me reading your thoughts before, Tora,” Anaka noted. “Are you hiding something? You once told me that it didn’t matter if you were with a mind reader or not, because you never lied or had anything to hide.”

“It’s just...invasive, I guess.”

Anaka studied her face with all three eyes before slipping out of her shoes and gesturing for Ichi to follow her inside. Ichi obliged, self-consciously wiping her feet off on the mat before stepping inside.

The hut made her prison feel large. Instead of having things laid out flat, like the floorplan of the palace, things were stacked up, all the way to the chimney in the center. Herbs and spices and various plants were hung upside down, all around the circular hut, embracing the smoke from the central hearth. There was an unrolled futon to the right, large enough to fit the two of them, and across from the smoke was a table with various chopped vegetables and salted meats in a bowl, ready to be cooked in the hearth. To Ichi’s left was a rounded bookshelf, almost as high as the ceiling of the hut itself, with a ladder to aid Anaka in reaching the highest books.

Ichi sat on the floor, feeling a bit too large for the entire place, even though the ceiling was high. 

“Let me make you some dinner,” Anaka said. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Ichi’s stomach rumbled, and she deduced that Anaka was capable of reading thoughts that even Ichi wasn’t aware of. She didn’t know she was hungry until it was pointed out. 

However, as far as Ichi was concerned, she spent her entire life in prison, so she hadn’t the slightest idea how to cook anything. So while Anaka fried up the foods in the hearth, Ichi decided to explore the bookshelf. She didn’t dare touch the precarious ladder; she didn’t think she’d need it, since she could just stand on her toes and reach the top shelf, but she also didn’t think it’d survive her weight. 

What confused her were the languages in the leatherbound books.

Ichi couldn’t read Man’s Script--that was something reserved for human, well,  _ men _ , and royals who kept her captive--but she could recognize it, and none of the characters resembled anything recognizable. There wasn’t any Women’s Script on the books, either, which was strange because most of the writing exchanged between the bars of her prison were written that way. 

“What’re all these?” Ichi asked, tossing a book with mysterious blocky characters in Anaka’s general direction. 

It landed beside her with an ominous thump, making Anaka jump and spill a few herbs into the fire.

Her words, however, were unphased, though she did quirk a curious eyebrow. “That’s one of the satori telepathy books,” Anaka said. “There’s a lot of those on that shelf. Many of these books are written by people like me. We can’t stand being around each other, us satori, but we can write books to each other giving general advice surviving humanity as well as other youkai. It’s...difficult, being a mind reader. No one wants you around.” Anaka stirred the pot thoughtfully.

“Okay, what about this?” Ichi tosed her another.

“Are you just gonna throw books all over our house?”

“Yep.”

Anaka sighed. “You didn’t used to be this...unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” Ichi added a few more books to the growing pile. “I’m just curious. If I supposedly lived here, maybe books would jog my memory.”

Anaka laughed. “Tora, you’ve never been able to read.”

“But...I could read Women’s Script in prison.”

Anaka scrunched her eyebrows but said nothing.

“Anyway, what’re all these?”

“Different satori books. The one on the top is some Buddhist literature. That’s written in China’s mainland language, which Man’s Script is derived from.”

Ichi rummaged around the bookshelves some more before her hand landed on a crinkled piece of paper. “What about this?”

“Don’t open that!”

Ichi stared Anaka right in the eyes--all three of them--and unfurled it.

She scanned it for a moment. It was written in half-Women’s Script, so Ichi could parse some of it together. “Something about...a trade?”

Anaka gently set down her ladle, but something about her energy, though she moved gently, sent shivers up Ichi’s spine.

But she’d be lying if Anaka’s anger didn’t excite her a little. She wanted to push her, see just what she was hiding, and she didn’t care too much until she got defensive. 

“Give. It. Back. Tora.”

Ichi held it close. “Don’t call me Tora. I’m not Tora.”

“But you were!”

“Things change. It’s been, what, how long?”

“A century.”

“A century! But seriously, what are you exchanging?”

Anaka reached for the note, and Ichi tugged, causing the paper to rip in half. 

But one kana stood out to Ichi.

_ To. _

And.

_ Ra. _

“That’s...what you keep calling me.” 

“What is?”

“Tora. Right here.” Ichi gestured toward the paper. “Why am I here? Why do you have an exchange letter? What are you exchanging?”

“It’s nothing, really!” Anaka’s cheeks flushed, her third eye closing.

Somewhere, deep within Ichi’s gut, she knew that the closing of a satori’s third eye meant  _ something _ , but she couldn’t remember what. All she knew was she didn’t like it.

“What were you exchanging?”

Anaka worried her lip. “Just...some knowledge. Some notes. So I could help rescue you!”

Ichi stepped closer. “You’re lying.”

“I’m...I’m not!”

“You can’t lie to an oni, Anaka- _ san _ .” 

Honorifics, in Ichi’s native tongue of Onikan, tended to reveal the true feelings one person had toward the other, but being that it didn’t appear that Anaka shared the same language, Ichi used the respectful Japanese honorific as a jab toward her.

_ San _ . Not a lover. Just a person.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the truth, Tora.”

Ichi slammed her fist against the bookshelf, and books tumbled down, landing in a heap of dust. A few notes landed in the hearth, igniting almost immediately until all that was left was a tiny flame. 

“Don’t. Call. Me. Tora.” Ichi stepped closer as the flames roared behind Anaka. “Who...are you?”

“I am Anaka. Your wife.”

“No, you’re not. No amount of memory loss would make someone completely emotionally forget their spouse.”

“Well, technically--”

“You’re not her. What do you want from me?”

Ichi lurched forward, catching Anaka by the throat but leaning her over the fire. 

“What do you want with my people? Why did you rescue me?”

Anaka kept her lips pressed in a thin line but said nothing. 

“Answer, or I’ll burn you alive.” Ichi felt her eyes go ablaze, the way an oni’s lit up before the change took over.

“You can’t kill me,” Anaka said with a smile. The heat was making the moisture evaporate from Anaka’s lips, and her thin grimace began to peel. 

“Why not?”

“Because they will.”

There was a sharp knock at the door, and Anaka called for whoever was on the other side to come in.

Ichi readied herself, but didn’t let go of Anaka. Letting her burn would be letting the truth disintegrate with her body, and Ichi needed all the knowledge she needed. 

As the hut’s door slid open, Ichi felt her heart hammer in her throat, her pulse creating a metallic taste between her teeth, but as soon as she saw their faces, her fear subsided.

They weren’t onmyouji, like she expected.

They were just assassins.

And Ichi could take that.

“Talk,” Ichi spat, ignoring the armored people behind her.

“Aren’t you gonna take care of my friends?”

“Sure.” Without letting go of Anaka’s throat, she grabbed a fire poker, and threw it like a javelin. The tips landed in the eyes of the first assassin, who collapsed immediately, blood spilling from where his eyes used to be. As he screamed, so did the other assassins. 

Ichi was a being made of hellfire and spite, as she was told when tortured by the onmyouji. And fire couldn’t burn hellfire. She grabbed the coals from the hearth and chucked them at the second assassin, who landed atop the first. 

Ichi hoised the liar on her hip like an infant, but still keeping her grip on her neck so she wouldn’t have enough oxygen to plan anything cunning. She broke the fire poker in half before giving the first assassin a good kick to the head for good measure--some brain matter spilled through his eye sockets, and he didn’t respond, so that gave Ichi the confidence that he was indeed dead--and used it to spear the heart of the last assassin.

Once the dust settled and as did the dead, Ichi pinned Anaka to the wall. “Talk, bitch.”

“So you’ve...figured out that I’m not your wife.”

“That much was obvious. Someone who loved an oni wouldn’t lie. Someone who loved an oni...I’d feel that. I’d understand that. And I wouldn’t feel like my privacy was invaded.” 

“If I tell you, will you let me live?”

“Perhaps. Is that chance worth taking, to you?”

Anaka nodded.

“Then speak.”

“Your wife is buried in the wall behind the bookshelves. I was an assassin sent to kill her.”

“So I did have a wife.”

“Yes.”

“And we lived here, together.”

“Yes.”

“Why did she need to die?”

“She was a human, wed to a female oni. The courts didn’t like that.”

“The courts. You worked for the courts.”

“How else would I know my way around the palace?”

Ichi swallowed her emotions for a bit. “So why did you pretend to save me, pretend to be my wife, and then send assassins after me?”

“Well, the assassins were extra. I sent them a secret signal to try to kill you if my plan didn’t go through. You see...you were very helpful as a warrior, in your life before captivity. You had some infamy, even, to the point you earned the name of one of the royal oni from the Mountain. If I could manage to capture and train an oni for myself...someone to do my bidding and assassin work so I could continue my research in alchemy and magic…”

“So what, oni are just a tool to you?”

“Aren’t they to everyone?” Anaka hissed. “You’re strong, stupid, and passionate. Anyone’d be an idiot to not hire you. What do you think the prison was for? The courts would keep you for a while, and if you survived, train you to be one of their brainwashed soldiers. But my magic is stronger than any onmyouji’s. I’ve studied for centuries. I could manipulate you.”

“So what about the exchange? What the fuck was that?”

“If my plan went awry, I’d have to kill you, and since you have a rather powerful soul, I could exchange it for precious knowledge and writings I could never  _ dream _ of getting my hands on. You see...satori love keeping souls. Souls retain memories. Since yours are repressed...it’d be a fascinating high to unearth them.”

“Un. Fucking. Believable. You say my wife is in the walls?”

“Yes.”

“How did she die?”

“Poison. I lack the strength to kill her with my hands at the time. But she had plenty of research I could use here, so I turned her dwelling place to my new research place. I knew, if I stole her materials and used the strength killing gave me, I’d become far powerful enough to harness an oni.”

“But you were wrong.”

“What?”

“You could never harness an oni.” Mental games weren’t something oni often played, and Ichi was tired of whatever exhausting plan Anaka had concocted. “I think I’ve let you live long enough.”

“But you said--”

“Did you  _ really _ think I’d let you live after I found out you killed my wife?”

“I--”

Getting a better grasp on her neck, Ichi slammed Anaka’s head into the hearth, shattering her skull instantly. Blood and tissue pooled into the hearth with a sizzle, the deep red bubbling sickeningly. 

After a few seizes, Anaka lied still.

For good measure, Ichi gave her a few more punches, just to make sure she was truly dead, before throwing her in the pile of bodies. It was beginning to reek in the hut, so Ichi knew she had to act fast.

There had to be materials to help her tear the wall down.

She would find her wife’s body.


	3. Part 3

Ichi tried her damndest to breathe through her mouth, but the taste of the decay was almost stronger than the smell of the corpses.

But even in prison, where she practiced muting her senses from the newly deceased, her willpower was stronger. And now, her desire to find the body of the woman she loved surpassed her anger toward the traitor that freed her, her imprisonment, or the stench of death. 

Anaka didn’t seem to be one for heavy tools; as Ichi rummaged around, the largest tool she found was a fire pick, which wouldn’t withstand breaking a wall. So Ichi thought out her next best idea: knocking on the walls to figure out which one was hollow. Whichever wall echoed was sure to have a secret compartment, just like how Ichi found secret cells in her prison.

The only problem that she faced here were the bookshelves. Anaka sure thought through hiding the body, hiding any bare walls with towering shelves.

They’d have to come down. 

Ichi wasn’t strong enough to break out of prison herself, but a few bookshelves didn’t appear to be a problem for her, she figured. So without touching the ladder, she recklessly climbed them, the worn wood creaking beneath her weight.

The bookshelf wouldn’t budge.

_ What was the point of the ladder, then, if the bookshelves are this sturdy? _ Ichi wondered. She shook the shelves slightly, and they creaked and groaned in response, but didn’t budge. It was then Ichi realized that Anaka could hardly be physically able to construct these shelves herself, and if they were this sturdy…

Then they had an oni in mind. 

Ichi considered two possibilities: one, that the person who constructed the shelves was her former, deceased wife, and her body was elsewhere, or Anaka used magic to construct sturdy shelves for the oni she planned on harnessing. Knowing how easily Anaka’s plans were foiled, Ichi figured the former was more likely, and climbed down.

She ghosted her hands around the shelves, noticing that one was far more dusty than the other, cobwebs and grime gathering on her bloodstained fingers. 

Dust.

That meant that the shelf was unusued for a long time. 

Why wouldn’t a bookish mage like Anaka use a bookshelf?

Perhaps...if it wasn’t real.

Ichi gave it a tug, and heard a hollow sound in response.

Her face broke into a grin, despite the hot tears trickling down her dirty cheeks. Score.

It was then Ichi noticed that none of the books had labels over here: no words, Woman’s or Man’s Script, just plain books. All except one with an engraving of a head with horns.

An oni.

Ichi grasped the book and pulled, finding it to be much heavier than an ordinary book. Suddenly, Ichi found herself moving, being hurled into something unknown. The bookshelf was moving too, rotating into a space thicker with the stench of death than Ichi had ever witnessed. 

Choking, she clutched onto the less-than-sturdy self, shielding herself from the dust that fell from the groaning ceiling. Then the book adjusted back to its former position, and everything was still.

Ichi swallowed the acid in her throat and toed the dirt ground in front of the shelf before taking a hesitant step. The only light she was provided were breaks in the grass above, small streams of sunlight breaking down into the cavern she walked through. 

She followed the paths of light, noticing iron grates blocking her from the outside world. The tunnel continued to narrow, as caverns did, and Ichi had to shimmy to the side to get through.

It was then she found the mouth of the cave, a circular room surrounded by what appeared to be tall boxes. Each box had the same marking as the book.

“No, no, no!” Ichi shouted, realization flooding her. Hastily, she ran toward them, and opened, only for her thoughts to be proven correct. Each box contained not only the bodies of oni, who were far beyond decaying to the point their skeletons and horns were crumbling to dust, but bodies she somehow recognized.

_ No, you don’t know them. There’s loads of oni in every land. They could be anyone. You’re just paranoid. _

Even as she swallowed the bile in her mouth, she still couldn’t help but think, as she held the six-fingered hand of what felt like her deceased cell mate, that Anaka had somehow been keeping the bodies of the oni who died in prison. 

There were dozens of them, all of which Ichi freed from their box prisons. Even if skulls couldn’t be recognizable, horns could be, and the ones that were visible were definitely ones that Ichi remembered knowing in prison.

The only thing resembling a family she had.

The oni who would ferment rotting fruit in jars behind the cells to throw secret oni parties.

The oni who made sports out dueling with severed cell bars. 

The oni she shared meals with, slept near, and made up stories with.

_ Now’s not the time to get sentimental, _ Ichi reminded herself.  _ Find your wife, and burn this place to the ground to release their souls from their second prison. _

As Ichi cast aside the last box, she noticed another thin tunnel to her right. 

_ Perhaps that’s where she keeps the bodies of humans, _ Ichi wondered, and she crept through the tunnel. 

Instead of haphazard bodies in boxes, Ichi found a room full of ceramic jars, neatly stored in shelves not unlike the bookshelves in the main house. Each had a name, written in Man’s Script.

It was then, Ichi realized with horror, she couldn’t decipher the writing, nor did she know her dead wife’s name. 

_ How can I show her respects if I can’t even fucking  _ find _ her? _

The room grew cold. Ichi herself was rarely cold, so she found the breeze quite alarming as she hugged her arms. 

_ Hey. _

_ Dammit, now I’m hearing voices, _ Ichi cursed to herself.

_ You’re not. _

_ Great, now the voices are telling me I’m not hearing them. That’s really reassuring. _

_ No, listen, please. Oni. You don’t know me, but I know you. _

Ichi found herself digging at the ground.  _ Are you...my wife? _

_ I was, yes. But now we are here. I’m kept above you, three shelves up.  _

_ What should...I do? _

_ Take this vial outside of the entire hut, then open it. I’ll resolve this. For me. For them. For us. _

Ichi scanned the shelves, then reached for the one described. It was cold to the touch, like the area around her. 

_ Why are you so cold? _

_ I won’t be for long. This wretched place is only masking my true capabilities. _

_ What...are you? _

_ I was human. I lost that long, long ago, when she murdered me and your entire clan. _

_ My...clan? _

_ Yes. For protecting humans like me. You were all only trying to help, but you ended up being held prisoner until Anaka, the executioner, killed you all one by one.  _

_ What did we do? _

_ The thing that your kind often does. Find battered housewives and liberate them from the shackles of human suffering. I was your first and unfortunately, your last. The government found out that you were the one who took me away, and ordered you be captured for the safety of humanity. Such is the fate of an oni. _

Ichi didn’t know how to respond, so she made her way through the tunnels of the cavern, back to the bookshelf. She clung to the flimsy shelves and tugged the book, rotating her and her wife’s ashes back to the hut.

_ Do I open you here? _

_ No. It’ll only work outside the door. It’ll bring me to full strength. _

_ What’s that supposed to mean? _

_ Do as I say. _

Ichi sighed and obliged, leaving the cabin full of corpses behind as she opened the jar of ashes on the front porch.

The ceramic was burning, as though it had been freshly crafted. It fell from Ichi’s normally fire-resistant hands with a clatter, the jar shattering to a thousand pieces.

For a moment, all she could see was smoke. 

Then a form materialized before her, the shape of a woman in a white kimono, tattered and fading to the deepest black Ichi had ever seen at the bottom.

A woman who did and didn’t look familiar.

A woman who lacked hair, but was made of flames themselves, the deceased embodiment of fury.

_ The human will pay _ , she said, though her mouth didn’t move aside from being open in a screaming position.  _ They will all pay. _

The yuurei rushed back into the house with a scream. The black of the kimono, Ichi had now discovered, was burnt, as though the fire she contained was too much for the fabric. The trail she left behind as she made her way through the threshold made a line of fire on the wood floors, devouring everything in sight as she traveled.

Soon, the air was filled with screams and the scent of burning flesh. Ichi could feel each and every soul escaping the place, the orbs that made the culminations of their beings soaring through the air, traveling at high speeds through Ichi’s body before making it to the world beyond this one. Ichi shivered, despite the burning building before her. She could’ve sworn she heard a  _ thank you _ from the orbs.

Her deceased wife made it back through the threshold, blackened teeth in a wide smile as she held more of the orbs in her hands. One tried to squirm away, and the yuurei bit into it, dissolving it into nothingness as it dripped down her white front. 

_ Was that...Anaka? _

_ Yes. And now her spirit can no longer make others suffer.  _ The yuurei chuckled.  _ But I can. _

_ What are you...going to do? _

_ I’m going to find each and every onmyouji and court person responsible for making your people suffer. And I will devour them as they have your limited lives, leaving you to waste away before Anaka ended any life you could’ve had.  _

_ Can I help? _

_ No...Ichi. _

_ Why are you calling me that? _

_ Is it not what you want to be called? _

Ichi frowned. She had her there.

_ Who you are now is who you are. That’s the woman I love. Not the woman you were before, though I loved her, too. You’re free now. Be free.  _

_ I...I won’t let you down. But...because I can’t remember you...is there something I can call you? _

_ My name no longer matters, Ichi, just as your previous one no longer holds relevance. Soon, the onmyouji will exorcise me, and I will cease to exist, anyway. _

_ But...I have to carry your name. Your honor. _

The yuurei sighed.  _ Chiyo. It was Chiyo. _

_ Then, if you are exorcised, I’ll keep your name with me. _

Those dangerous, blackened teeth dared a smile toward the oni.  _ This is why I will always love you. This is why I fight for your kind. Now, fight for yourself, Ichi. _

The yuurei dissolved into smoke as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Ichi alone before the burning hut and stench of death. She watched the building crumble for a while before turning to the rest of the forest. It would be collapsing with the yuurei’s fiery rage, as the fire from the hut would soon catch on the trees. 

Ichi figured the best thing to do would be to get near water, where the fire couldn’t cross. And perhaps wash the grime and death from her face. 

A part of Ichi remembered to follow the breeze to the source of water; wherever the air was cooler, the water would follow. Sure enough, as she half-slid down the path on the wrappings covering the soles of her feet, she found the source of water.

She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she saw the freshwater lake. She sank to her knees, clutching the water in her hands before covering her face in it, scrubbing off the grime and taking slurps whenever she could. Once she felt at least passably clean, she watched her reflection in the stilling water. As scarred, maroon skin came into view, Ichi realized she didn’t know what she looked like, and the image of the reddish oni made her heart race.

_ So that’s me, huh? _

Cascades of light pink hair, dripping with the water she used to wash her face, covered her head. Her forward-gesturing horns were almost as black as the bottom of the yuurei’s dress. The rest of her visible, muscular body were covered in haphazard robes, the remains of violet clothing that once was something beautiful. 

Ichi stood and stretched, her heart and spinning head deciding she had seen enough of herself, and her nose detecting that the flames were making their way toward her.

Ichi sank into the water, unsure of how she knew how to swim, but knowing good and well she could make it across. The cool water of the lake embraced her scarred skin like an old friend, her thoughts swimming with her body.

She’d carry her dead wife’s name, but she’d also carry her prison number with pride.

Ichi, from Cell Number One. 

Ichi, the first oni free.


End file.
